


Sympathy for the Devil

by RedThreads



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3292391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedThreads/pseuds/RedThreads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a one-shot I came up with and couldn't ignore. Now, there are some vaguely religious themes played with, so if that is a touchy subject, you may want to ignore this one.</p><p>I fully admit this is inspired by the beginning of a manga I loved in college called Demon Ororon and another story I have in the works for you guys. Many thanks to my lovely beta bloose09 for all of the wonderful help! This was originally posted on Teaspoon, and I'm just adding it over here as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sympathy for the Devil

It was a chilly, foggy spring evening when they found each other. The rain had started falling in a gentle, persistent manner, driving most people back into their homes or local cafes. She had been laughing and running with her friend, holding hands as they dodged puddles and struggled with the brolly she had purchased earlier on a whim, the bright pink polka dots on the black fabric calling out to her. “Oi, Micks! Watch it,” she sputtered, laughing as her friend successfully stole the brolly and danced away, kicking up water as he went.

She had been about to chase after him and reclaim her pilfered parasol when she saw the figure of a man sitting down on the sidewalk, propped up against the rough brick of the building. He was just sitting, head down as if he were asleep, letting the rain pelt him. He could have been any homeless bum in the city, yet  he hadn’t sought shelter like the others. There was an aura of pain that pulsed around him and she found herself drawn to him like a moth to flame.

The man had been watching the two of them since they had come around the corner, or rather, if he were honest with himself, he’d been watching the young woman as she laughed with her friend. She was like a bright, shining light, a beautiful soul dancing in the spring air, reminding him of things he had only rarely seen and never truly felt. The weight of his wounds, both physical and mental, felt unbearable, yet he didn’t let himself melt into the darkness – not yet.Instead, he just bowed his head, unconsciousness dancing on the edge of his vision and internally, he fought to remain in this world. Soon it would all be over, but he didn’t want to deny himself this one last opportunity to see something beautiful.

The young woman left her friend to his foolishness and crossed the distance between herself and the stranger, compelled by concern. Crouching down in between his splayed out legs, clad in black trousers and sturdy looking boots, she began to examine him. He was much larger than her petite 5’4”, his broad shoulders wrapped in a sodden maroon jumper, and a battered, dark leather jacket. Dark brown hair was cropped close to his skull, and his pale skin was pulled taut with pain over his forehead and broad cheekbones. One cheekbone had split open, blood trailing down past his hawkish nose and unsmiling lips to drip on his jumper. She caught her breath as she met his eyes, crystal blue and cold, almost cruelly so, although they were fogged with pain. “Hullo,” she said quietly, compelled to speak to this broken man sitting out in the rain as darkness gathered around them. “My name is Rose. Do you need help?” she asked, ignoring her friend who had come back when he saw she wasn’t following.

The man raised his head slightly. It was all he could manage in his current state, but he wanted a better look at this girl, this Rose. The light from the streetlight above her illuminated her, causing her skin to glow, and highlighting the deep bow of her lush lips. The light caught the prisms of the raindrops in her honey blonde hair, loose about her shoulders, making it appear as if there was a halo of light around her. “Lovely to meet you, Rose. I’m the Doctor,” he forced out, his deep voice sounding rough and cracked, “Now turn around and forget you ever saw me.” He didn’t want to risk this lovely angel of a girl and things were about to get very bad.

“C’mon, Rose, you heard him,” her friend said, reaching out to grab her shoulder, trying to urge her to her feet. The Doctor’s blue eyes shifted to sweep the length of the youth before dismissing him as not worth much and swinging back to lock with Rose’s warm, cinnamon brown eyes. There was stubbornness there, and a determined spark he hadn’t felt within himself for a long time. “Just leave him alone, eh? You heard him, s’what ‘e wants!” The young man’s skin had darkened further from the cold, dismissive stare of the older man, and the young man tugged at his lovely friend’s shirt, trying to pull her away.

Rose twisted her shoulder out from under his seeking hand, turning her face up to glare at him. “Leave off, Mickey! Can’t you see he’s hurt? Help me get him up!” she demanded and both men knew there would be no stopping her. She shifted, coming to one side of the injured man who had called himself ‘the Doctor’ and motioning Mickey to the other. Together, they lifted the Doctor to his feet, putting an arm around each of their shoulders so he wouldn’t collapse to the ground again. He tried to make another protest, but Rose hushed him softly.

“We should just call an ambulance,” Mickey groused, but he continued to help Rose move the injured man down the street in the direction they had been heading, still holding onto her brolly. The Doctor had locked eyes with Rose once more and she saw something wild in them, wild and panicked, like the eyes of the snow leopard she had seen once who had been in a cage much too small. “No,” she said softly, reassuringly, “No hospitals. We’ll get him to my flat and I’ll patch him up.” At her words and gentle smile, the Doctor let his head drop, trying to shuffle his feet along the best he could, as not to overburden Rose with his weight.

Mickey protested the entire way, but he helped Rose get the Doctor to their flat building, holding the man’s weight on his own while Rose ran ahead to open the doors and push the lift buttons. “This is a bad idea,” he told her as he helped her lay the now practically unconscious man in her small bed of the two room studio she rented. “You can’t keep rescuing strays,” he called out to her through the open door as she busied herself in the kitchen, filling her  kettle with water to boil, while he struggled to get the soaking clothes off the man. “Oh god, he’s not wearing pants,” he cried, shutting his eyes quickly and pulling up the blankets. “He isn’t some squirrel you found on the side of the road,” Mickey admonished as he walked backwards out of her flat to go and fetch some of his dry clothes from his gram’s flat down the hall as Rose had requested. “What if he attacks you?” he asked when he returned, holding a dry, plain grey cotton jumper and a pair of baggy black pajama bottoms.

“He won’t hurt me, Micks,” Rose promised, kissing his cheek as she gently prodded him back out of her flat after he dropped the clothing by the  unconscious man on her bed. “Tell your gram I said hi and I’ll be by to see you tomorrow morning, let you know how he’s doing, ‘kay?” she said with a smile, her tongue caught between her teeth.

Mickey watched the door swing shut between him and the girl he loved. just a little more than the friend she clearly was, before he turned and trudged back to the apartment he shared with his grandmother. He had discovered it was just best to go along with Rose’s plans, there was no talking that girl out of anything once her mind was made up.

Rose threw the deadbolt on her door and took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” a deep voice rumbled from behind her and she spun around to see the man she had taken into her home staring at her from her pillow. Their gazes caught and held once more for several heartbeats, time dragging into an eternity.

The whistle of the kettle broke the spell between them and Rose swiftly moved out of his line of sight, pouring the boiling water into two mugs holding tea bags, as well as a small bowl already partially filled with cold water and a soft cloth. She had prepared them while waiting for Mickey to return with the dry clothes and now carefully balanced them as she walked into her bedroom, placing them on her nightstand before retrieving a chair from her tiny kitchen. “Wouldn’t be so sure of what?” she asked the Doctor finally as she tested the heat of the water in the bowl before wringing out the cloth. She looked expectantly at him, waiting for his answer as she held the cloth in one hand.

“That I won’t hurt you,” he rumbled and then began to cough. “I won’t mean to,” he explained, feeling oddly eager to warn her, yet unwilling to let her think he held malicious intent toward her. “Bad things tend to happen around me,” he finally settled on saying, not wanting to get into the entire story.

“I think you’ll find,” Rose said quietly, very gently pressing the cloth to his split cheek, “I am more capable of handling trouble than you might think.” She locked eyes with him for a brief second and he saw a glimpse of the strength she mentioned before she bent to her task, carefully cleaning his wound.

The Doctor wanted to stay stiff, continue to warn her away from him, but he was so tired. Everything hurt, except where she was lightly touching. Warmth spread from her touch, seeping into his skin and bones. It didn’t stop the edges of his vision from going fuzzy, although he struggled to hold on, to spend more time awake with Rose while she tended to him. The struggle made him careless and one hand lifted, stroking a light caress down her smooth, rounded cheek. “Wh… where are your wings?” he found himself asking.

Rose paused, startled more by his question than his touch. His eyes were glazing over and she brushed a hand against his forehead. “Shhh, you’re burning up with fever. Just sleep now. You’re safe,” she murmured reassuringly and was relieved when his eyes closed and his breathing evened as sleep took him. She waited a moment to see if he would stir, and when he didn’t she blew out a sigh. The man saw more than he should.

Setting aside the cloth, Rose took a sip from one of the cups of the slightly cooler Earl Grey tea, preparing herself for the work that was about to begin. Reaching deep within herself, Rose pulled up a well of golden light, letting it fill up her body, blazing out of her eyes. The heat of it almost burned her, but she knew how to channel it. Very lightly, she drew a finger along the cut on his cheek, a smile touching her lips as the skin knit back together, healing so there was no sign of injury. Content with how that had healed, she pulled back the blankets that Mickey had covered the Doctor with, exposing him down to his hip bones. His entire abdomen and torso was littered with deep, dark bruising, alerting her to his intense internal bleeding. Rose laid her hands on his stomach, letting the golden light sweep from her hands and into his body, healing the bruising as she pulled her hands up and over his chest, making sure to cover every subtly muscled and lightly haired inch. Injured organs reshaped and broken blood vessels came back together beneath her golden touch, much to her satisfaction. Rose didn’t want to infiltrate his privacy any further than she already had, so she sent the light deeper throughout his body, searching for any wounds lower than his waist.

She didn’t find anything other than a few scrapes, but there was something dark and oily in his blood. Something that stank of poison. She used the golden burn of the light to neutralize as much of the poison as she could, but it had been in him for long enough to bond with his blood.She couldn’t completely eliminate it, merely begin the healing process. Rose pulled back, sending the golden light back down inside of herself, knowing she had done what she could for now. His fever was the only way his body had to fight the remnants of the poison, so she would have to be careful in her monitoring of him. There was also something… off about his anatomy. Something not entirely human. There was something dark in this man, deep in his structure, but she continued to sense she was in no harm from him directly.

Exhaustion set in as the stress of healing this strange man hit her. She took another sip of the tea and rolled her neck. Rose wanted to get some of the tea into the Doctor, but he was sleeping so peacefully, she felt it would be better to just let him sleep. Taking the opportunity while she had it, Rose hurried around the apartment, getting a few peanut butter crackers in her for sustenance and grabbing a few bottles of water. She took the water and went back into her bedroom, where the Doctor was still sleeping.

Rose yawned and briefly debated where she was going to sleep. The Doctor was taking up most of her bed, and the sofa in the tiny excuse of a living room was too short for her and fairly uncomfortable. She could put some blankets on the floor, but she was worried that she wouldn’t know if the Doctor needed her. With that, the decision was simple. Rose pulled a big, loose t-shirt she had ripped the collar out of and a pair of sleep shortsout of her dresser and quickly changed in the bathroom. It made her shake her head at the oddity of changing in her own bathroom, but she certainly wasn’t going to risk a stranger waking up in her bed with her next to him naked. That was truly asking for trouble.

She was already risking trouble by having him stay in her place to begin with and now she was compounding it, Rose acknowledged, but she was too tired to worry about it. She shrugged and crawled over his unconscious form before laying down. Rose had to wiggle around to find a comfortable sleeping position, but eventually, she discovered she was most comfortable cuddled up against the Doctor’s body, her head sharing the pillow, and one hand on his chest to monitor his breathing and heart rate. Knowing how hard the next few days were going to be, Rose let herself fall into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose was awoken a few hours later by the Doctor beginning to thrash. He was muttering something, but it was either too broken or in a language she didn’t understand. Rose scrambled up and managed to lift the Doctor enough to slip behind him, propping him up in a sitting position, using her body to steady him, letting his head rest on her chest. She was able to get some tea in him, and spent nearly half an hour cooling his chest and forehead with the cloth and dish of water she had used before, murmuring softly to him.

She was able to catch a few more hours of sleep in that position once he calmed, returning to his own fitful sleep. A loud knock on her door woke her then and she was able to slip out from under the Doctor without much trouble. As she left the bed, he made a protesting noise and his hand reached for her. “I’ll be right back,” Rose reassured him, patting his head before heading for her door.

Rose opened the door to see Mickey standing there, looking relieved to see her. “Sorry, Micks,” she said, yawning and motioning him in. “I lost track of time. It was a rough night.

“You should take him to a hospital, Rose. This is dangerous,” Mickey said, fidgeting slightly as he looked in at the sleeping man.

“Nah, he’s fine. Really. At this point the hospital wouldn’t do anything different from me, so why move him?” Rose said and Mickey just sighed. The man began moaning in the bedroom and Rose rushed to his side. “Mickey, can you help me here? I need you to lift him up so I can check his back, cool him down some.”

Mickey helped Rose put the pajama bottoms on the Doctor he had brought over,  while Rose turned her back and stared at a spot on the ceiling, although he protested the entire time about her keeping a strange man in her flat. He mentioned his concern for her safety repeatedly, and Rose continued to reassure him.

That marked the routine of the next few days. Mickey continued to check on Rose and her stranger, but for the most part it was just Rose and the Doctor, working through his fever, which kept him unconscious most of the time. Luckily, he’d been lucid enough to make it to the bathroom on his own, although Rose had hovered like a mother hen outside the firmly closed door the first few times.

Three days passed, three days of Rose keeping on eye on her patient, sleeping next to him and never leaving his side for longer than ten minutes to grab a quick shower or fix a meal. She kept a steady flow of chicken broth and tea available for the Doctor, helping him sit up and eat. He didn’t say much, except for when he was in a fevered sleep, where he would mutter and shout, thrashing about until Rose stroked her hand down his arm or chest, murmuring reassuring words. When he was shivering, Rose wrapped herself and blankets around him, and when he was sweating, she did her best to cool him.

On the fourth day, Rose shut the door behind Mickey after his daily visit and scrubbed her hands through her hair. She was tired, bone tired, and starting to get a little discouraged. She had done what she could to heal him, but the poison had kept him sicker than she had imagined. Rose knew that if she wasn’t able to heal him, no hospital would, but she was worried.

Rose checked on the Doctor, but he seemed to be resting peacefully, so she took a fast shower, reveling in the feel of hot water. A few minutes later Rose stepped out of the shower, feeling much more refreshed and ready to face whatever was thrown her way. The man in her care was getting better, even if it had taken longer than she expected. Everything was going to be fine. She toweled off and reached for the pile of sleep clothes she had brought into the bathroom with her. After a few days, it almost felt normal to be changing in her cramped bathroom. As she went to pull on her oversized t-shirt, Rose caught a glimpse of her back in the slowly defogging mirror.

Her back was almost entirely covered with an intricately shaded tattoo of a pair of feathered wings, arching from her shoulder blades to flow down the curve of her back, ending with the primary feathers just caressing the rise of her bottom. Rose stared ruefully at the ink and skin wings, her heart heavy. Turning away, Rose quickly pulled the t-shirt over her head and the reached for the shorts. Wishful thinking served no one and she had someone who needed her.

Rose moved to the kitchen, setting water on to boil and pulling out a can of chicken noodle soup. The Doctor had improved to the point she was able get food with more substance in him, much to her excitement. Broth was good and all, but a body couldn’t heal without something more in it. A noise startled her and she turned to see her patient leaning against the open doorframe of her bedroom, the borrowed black jimjams riding low on his hipbones, his chest still bare. “Oh! Hullo, how are you feeling?” she asked with a cheerful smile, as she always did when she saw he was awake. “Do you need any help?”

The Doctor shook his head, his breathing nearly normal, a big difference from the days before. “Bathroom?” he asked, as he had every day he’d been well enough to speak in something other than the broken language Rose couldn’t decipher. Rose pointed, and he moved past her, brushing her lightly with his bare shoulder in the cramped space of her studio flat. Her skin felt hot from where he had oh so briefly touched her, but she pushed that aside and concentrated on making him something to eat and herself some tea.

Her silent administrations in front of her stove were interrupted when she heard the toilet flush and the door creaked open. The Doctor’s head peered out at her from the opening and his eyes were guarded as he asked, “Can I take a shower?”

Startled, Rose stared at him for a moment, her lips slightly parted. “Umm, sure!” she finally said when she could speak past her surprise, “There is a clean towel in the alcove above the toilet.” The Doctor’s head withdrew, the door closed, and Rose blew out a breath. It was a relief to see him up and well, but it was suddenly very hard to ignore the fact that there was a strange man about to be naked in her small flat. A man who looked far too attractive for having been on death’s door for the past few days. He was still pale, but not the ghostly white from before, and now that he was lucid, those beautiful blue eyes under straight, dark brows were once again drawing her in. His nose and his ears were far too big for conventional beauty, but there was a ruggedness to him that Rose found strangely tantalizing. It didn’t help that he was wandering around in just cotton jimjams, leaving his chest bare, showing off a lovely patch of hair that narrowed down his abdomen as if trying to draw her attention to what lay just below the drawstring of his jimjams. The past few days had also left him with a growth of stubble on his jaw that Rose ached to rub her hand against. She had barely noticed when he’d been laying against her breast, only just conscious, but now the sight of it filled her with a strange desire.

The soup nearly boiled over and the kettle went off at the same time, so Rose was able to distract herself with setting things to right, getting a bowl and spoon, pouring water over the chamomile tea in her mug. She hoped it would soothe her nerves and let her sleep now that she was so highly aware of the Doctor in her home.

Rose looked up as the bathroom door opened again and the Doctor reappeared in a billow of steam, still clad in his borrowed jimjams, his skin almost dewy from the heat and moisture of the shower. “Ummm… hi there,” Rose said shyly, raking a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “You look like you’re feeling better. Would you like some soup?”

The Doctor stared at her, his expression revealing nothing. Internally, there was a maelstrom happening. This slip of a girl had saved him, literally lifted him out of the streets and healed him, taking him from where he thought there was no answer other than giving up and giving in, and bringing him to a world of possibilities. And she had no idea. Part of him wanted to drop to his knees and praise her, another part wanted to bolt out of the apartment and race from her before she changed everything. Above all else, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss those tempting, life-giving lips of hers.

He did none of those things, instead forcing his own lips into a grin as he said, “Much better. Thank you for the shower. And… everything else before that.” It felt awkward, thanking someone else, but he forced himself to do it. She deserved much more. Like him getting the fuck out her life. However, he’d been here long enough that she was probably fucked either way and she’d have a better chance if he was there when the shit hit the fan.

Rose returned his grin and the Doctor felt it like sunshine hitting his face. “Soup?” she asked again, raising up the gently steaming bowl she held in one hand.

The Doctor nodded. “Please,” he said and started forward, only to stop as his vision faded in and out. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings back, trying not to lose his balance. The poison they’d dosed him with had been one of the worst he'd ever experienced. It was out of his system, but he was still recovering.

An arm wrapped around him and he looked over to see Rose had put the soup down to come and support him. “Back to bed,” she said, gently moving him forward.

“I’m fine,” the Doctor protested, but Rose only hushed him, moving him back to the bedroom, where he sank back onto the bed, although he stayed upright, determined to work past the dizziness. He had to if he was going to protect her.

Rose vanished and reappeared with her mug of tea and his bowl of soup. She handed him the bowl, which he gratefully accepted, and sat next to him on the bed, sipping her tea. They sat in companionable silence for awhile, Rose occasionally looking over at him to gauge how well he was truly feeling, the Doctor returning her gaze steadily each time. She shifted slightly and the collar of her shirt slipped off her shoulder, revealing the top of her tattoo on her left shoulder. When his eyes locked on the image of the wing, something clicked into place, a memory from just before she had healed him. And how she had healed him. He might have been unconscious, but he hadn’t been dead. He remembered that golden light deep inside of him. Shock reverberated through him and suddenly he knew the two of them were in even deeper trouble than he had previously thought.

The Doctor set his nearly finished soup on the nightstand next to him and locked eyes with his savior once more. “Where are your wings?” he asked gently.

Rose’s warm chocolate eyes went wide and pain shot through them. “Oh,” she said, forcing a laugh and raising a hand to cover her bare shoulder. “Just a tattoo I got a bit ago. Foolishness, but I thought they were pretty,” she said brightly, but her eyes slid away from his.

“Rose,” he started, reaching out a hand to cover hers, the tips of his fingers just lightly resting on the tattoo. “Where are your wings?” he asked again, more firmly.

“Who are you?” she whispered, the glimmer of tears starting in her eyes. He wanted to pull her close, into his arms, but he knew there was a very good chance she’d run from him if he answered her fully.

Instead, he gave her a partial answer. “Someone who knows there is more to this world than all the silly little humans believe. Someone with a very dark past, who has seen more than most. Someone who knows you should have wings, Angel,” he said, keeping his hand over hers, even as it twitched.

Rose gasped, her lips trembling. “I… what gave it away?” she asked, avoiding what he really wanted to know.

The Doctor squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “Like I said… seen a lot. Besides, I felt you heal me. Kinda hard to hide it after that,” he explained.

Rose nodded, biting her lip. “I knew it was a risk, but I couldn’t just leave you there,” she murmured and looked up at him again. “They burnt my wings and cast me down for questioning my place. It was during an uprising by Rassilon. Mum says it’s better now, but I still can’t go back. Not without my wings,” she whispered, pulling her hand out from under his quickly wiping a tear away. “S’not all bad! I rather like Earth, loads of neat places. Not that I’ve seen many,” she said, forcing a smile.

Horror ate at him as he absorbed her words. He couldn’t imagine the pain of what she had gone through, the physical and mental anguish of losing her wings, being cast from all that she knew and loved to a place where she knew no one. He knew of others who had completely given up after far less, and yet here she was, still thriving and taking on the troubles of others. He pulled her mug of tea from her unresisting hand and placed it on the nightstand before he opened his arms.

There was no thought of him as a stranger, a danger to her, Rose just went to him, accepting his offer of comfort as naturally as if he had been there for years. His arms closed around her and Rose settled in against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. The heat of him, the feel of his skin beneath her cheek, and the steady beat of his heart was like a balm to her soul, eating away at the remembered pain of her burnt wings. She shut her eyes, savoring the moment before she finally let herself ask the question she needed to know. “Who are you?” she asked again, so quietly she almost didn’t hear herself.

The Doctor’s hand paused mid-stroke down the soft silky of her hair and then continued, his fingers rubbing lightly at her scalp as he went, relaxing her even further. The arm around her flexed and relaxed as well, and he took a deep breath. He wanted to hide from her, but found he couldn’t. “I wasn’t always the Doctor,” he murmured, turning his face to rest against her head. Why was he so content here with her? Why was he going to reveal so much of himself? He had no answers, only the knowledge that he must continue. “I was once the Lord General of the Demons, answering only to our King.”

She went completely still, but didn’t push away from him, hit him, or scream. In fact, she didn’t withdraw from him at all. Encouraged, he proceeded with his story. “I was at the top, the best of the best… but I was so tired, so sick of all that was happening. I broke rank and ran. Ran away from all the killing and blood, ran away from the King. Called myself the Doctor and went around trying to fix things, make up for my sins. Still trying. Still running.”

Rose began to trace circles in the skin of his back, an old calming technique from her mum, as she felt the tension run through his body as he exposed his secret. “So you help others now,” she said and he nodded against her head. She pulled away slightly so she could meet his eyes. “What happened when I found you?”

He couldn’t look away from her, but he did manage a shrug. “Occasionally, they find me, my old friends. And they try to kill me.” He smiled, a cold baring of teeth. “But that’s harder than they expected.”

“So you just run?” Rose asked.

“Better than the alternative,” the Doctor explained. “Besides, I get to see a lot, help more people that way.”

“It sounds nice,” Rose said wistfully and he nodded. They held at each other for another moment and Rose felt her cheeks heating as their intimate position became more obvious as the need for comfort faded. Eventually, she shifted and he opened his arms, loosening his hold. She instantly felt the loss, but hid it with a smile. “Well, you might be the Doctor, but Nurse Rose says her patient needs to rest.”

He grinned at her. “Yes ma’am,” he said with mock meekness and she hopped from the bed.

“Well, I’ll be in the other room, you just call out if you need anything,” she said, grabbing an extra blanket from the foot of the bed and practically fleeing out to her living room. Rose shut off the one light left on in the living area and collapsed on the small, hard sofa. She curled up under the blanket, trying to pretend she was comfortable and that she didn’t see the light still on in her bedroom. Awake, he was far more than she had expected. His reveal of his history aside, Rose wasn’t sure how to handle how he made her feel. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Mickey that she was an angel, yet she had spilled it all to the Doctor. She got the feeling he hadn’t told his story to many others either. She knew she should be worried that he was a demon, a rather high ranking demon, but she wasn’t. One look in his eyes told her all she needed to know about how he felt about his past. They were just two misfits thrust together by circumstance and yet they fit together like missing puzzle pieces. Only… now what?

The light in the bedroom clicked off and Rose determinedly shut her eyes. She would sleep, and tomorrow they would… go their separate ways? Tomorrow was tomorrow and she would worry about it then.

A few hours passed, with Rose trying to get to sleep, utterly exhausted, but the cramped sofa hindered her, as well as the memories stirred up by the Doctor’s questions. If she were truly honest with herself, what she was really missing was the lack of the Doctor laying next to her. Rose had gotten used to having his warmth pressed against her.

A noise alerted her and she rolled over to see the Doctor standing above her, looking strangely vulnerable. “Rose?” he asked softly in the darkness.

She propped herself up on one elbow. “Yes, Doctor? Is everything alright?” He looked fine, but Rose didn’t want to take any chances with him.

“I… I can’t sleep. I guess I got used to you next to me,” he muttered, glancing away from her before quickly looking back.

“Okay,” she said simply.

He bent down, scooping her up into his arms, easily cradling her against his chest. She didn’t protest, merely resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her back to the bedroom. Gently, as if she were made of porcelain, the Doctor laid her on the bed. Even though she hadn’t protested when he had picked her up, he still hesitated, standing at her bedside. Rose got underneath the light blanket and held it up in invitation. The Doctor took her silent offer and settled into the bed next to her.

For a few minutes, they lay next to each other like dolls, perfectly straight and with minimal touching. Finally, with a frustrated growl, the Doctor turned, pulling her close, so her head rested on his chest and their arms were wrapped around each other. It was a conscious mimic of the position they had been forced into out of necessity when he had been sick, only now it was by choice and they were both very aware. Rose gave a contented sigh, nuzzling against him, and the Doctor lightly traced the outline of her tattoo through her shirt, running his fingers up and down her back. Finally, with everything as it should be, the two fell into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn stretched its pale fingers through the single bedroom window, brushing Rose’s face gently, pulling her back to the waking world. She blinked, her full, thick lashes sweeping up to reveal bemused, whiskey colored eyes. Her soft, bottom heavy lips smiled as she saw the Doctor gazing at her, his face so close to hers. “Morning,” she murmured, and stretched, a full bodied, cat-like movement, her eyes shutting again with the pleasure of her muscles waking and responding to her.

Her eyes shot back open as she realized she was pressing her breasts against the Doctor’s side, and she shot up, scrambling to the end of the bed as he propped himself up on both elbows. His eyes tracked her every movement, heavy-lidded like a content lion watching some interesting morsel dart in front of him. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she said breathlessly, trying to calm her racing heart. Oh god, her hair was probably a mess!

“I didn’t mind,” the Doctor said, his sleep heavy voice little more than a rumble. The vibration of his voice, coupled with his gaze, strummed her like a chord and Rose felt hot desire pool between her legs.

She shot off the bed, her long legs almost tangling in the blankets, but she was able to stay upright. Nervous, she pulled the collar of her shirt up over her shoulder, and then backwards when she realized how much cleavage she had shown. “Do you want breakfast?” she asked brightly, frantic to change the subject in her own mind.

The Doctor sat all the way up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “I know what I want,” he murmured, his gaze steady and hot on her as he looked her up and down. In that moment, Rose could easily see the predatory nature of one who could be the Lord General of a horde of demons. He licked his lips, a single swipe of his tongue over his far too tempting lips.

Rose squeaked and fled the bedroom, the Doctor’s laugh chasing after her, licking at her pulse. “So, are eggs okay?” she called out, quickly opening the fridge, trying desperately to distract them.

“Eggs sound good. For now,” he called out and grinned when he heard a utensil drop to the floor. Waking up to Rose in his arms had awoken a dark desire inside of him and his hunger was two-fold. He wanted her. Badly. But more than just ravishing her, he wanted to tease her, worship her body and soul. He wanted to show what she meant to him, what she had done for him. More than that, he wanted to make her smile. She had been so beautiful, with her tousled hair and loose limbs as she slept on him. It was as if every dream he had ever wished for had suddenly come true.

Out in the kitchen, Rose had to force her fingers to stop shaking. Something had happened, had changed. She could feel it in every atom of her being. It had begun when she first laid eyes on the Doctor’s injured form, but it had coalesced at some point in the night, probably when they had curled together, accepting the need for the other to sleep. Excitement and desire swirled within her, but she had still run. It was too much, too fast.

She reached for the knob to turn her hob on and froze as her shirt rubbed against suddenly sensitive nipples, causing pleasure to spike between her legs. A soft moan escaped her lips and Rose desperately pressed her lips and legs together, trying to quell her need. She didn’t even know why, just some feminine instinct told her to flee, to hold off a little longer. She was in completely new territory, having never experienced something like this before and as much as it excited her, it scared her.

Rose collected herself and reached for the eggs, ready to begin breakfast. As her fingers touched the cool, slightly dimpled shell of the egg, the air of her apartment changed, the smell of sulfur seeping through. Rose’s instincts cried out and she pivoted, catching a blade made of dark energy just before it struck her chest.

There, in her living room, were two demons, one crouched on goat legs, his yellow eyes slitted and bare arm outstretched, the other appearing to have snake scales covering half of his dark face, red eyes staring holes in her. “I told you I smelled an angel, Bazirel,” the snake skinned demon hissed, before taking a deep sniff. “An angel in heat,” he cried in twisted pleasure.

“I just want the General’s head, Gortham” growled the goat demon, Bazirel. “Fuck the angel, let’s rip her to shreds and find that traitor.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Gortham hissed, flicking his tongue out at Rose in an obscene gesture.

Fury filled Rose and golden light sizzled in her free hand. These demons would find she was no easy target and they would not lay a paw on her Doctor’s head. “You’ve made a mistake, boys,” she whispered, ready to defend her home.

“You have no idea,” a coldly furious voice intoned and all three focused on the bedroom doorway, where the Doctor had materialized. He was staring at the knife clutched in Rose’s hand, millimeters from piercing her chest. His eyes, almost black with rage, swung back toward the invading demons. Rose was struck by the differences between them, the invaders seeming twisted and gnarled amalgamations of human and animal, somehow lesser in both power and stature, while the Doctor was a tall, imposing force of will and fury, like an oncoming storm of power.“Your first mistake was to come after me at all, your death sentence was signed when you dared to try and touch her.” Frost bloomed under his hand that was clenched on the wood of the doorframe, which was splintering under the force of his grip. “I will let you go,” he ground out, sounding as if the offer was painful for him to make, “If you head back to Hell immediately and warn the others to leave me be.”

The demons looked at each other and leapt as one, each going for a different target. Rose ducked Gortham’s lunge, dancing away from his grasping claws. She shot him backwards with a strike of golden lightning and he hissed at her, revealing sharp, black teeth.

Bazirel went straight for the Doctor’s throat, which the Doctor sidestepped easily, chopping his hand down on the demon’s neck. There was a crack and Bazriel cried out, falling to the ground in a crumpled heap. Gortham glanced at his partner before lifting a derisive lip. “Idiot,” he muttered and threw another dark energy knife at Rose.

Rose deflected it and the Doctor materialized behind the snake demon, snatching the deflected knife out of the air and slamming it down into the chest of the screaming Gortham, who vanished in a blast of smoke and cinder.

Rose cringed as the Doctor stalked toward the broken Bazirel, still holding the knife. He kicked the demon over onto his back, exposing the demon’s chest. “You should have taken my offer,” the Doctor said, his eyes still black with anger.

He raised the knife and started to bring it down when Rose cried out, “No!” The Doctor swung to look at her, eyebrow and knife raised. “No,” she said softly, holding her hands out, “He’s already defeated on the battlefield. Don’t kill him. Banish him back to where he belongs, let him carry your message.”

The Doctor growled, “He tried to kill you!” Rose just stared at him, her eyes pleading. He let out an aborted roar of frustration and flung the knife away from him, the energy dissipating as it left his hand. He stared down at the whimpering Bazirel in contempt. “She just saved your life, whelp. Tell them to leave us alone or I won’t be so merciful next time,” he commanded and a piece of paper with circular symbols on it appeared in his hand. Rose recognized a banishing spell just as he flicked the paper at the demon, who vanished in a flash of fire.

Silence hung heavy in the apartment before the Doctor turned to stare at Rose, who was still pressed against the wall she had hit when avoiding Gortham’s attack. “I could have lost you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, and his eyes returning to their vivid blue.

“I’m fine,” Rose reassured him, but he was in front of her in an instant, hands running over her body to check for himself. As his callused hands ran over her breasts, Rose reached out to grab his face, pulling him back to her face. “I’m tougher than you think,” she murmured, staring deep into his eyes, trying to ignore how good his hands felt on her.

“I suppose you are,” the Doctor breathed, unable to move away from her.

Rose made a small noise and then leaned forward, placing her lips on his in a kiss that went from chaste to passionate in a heartbeat. The Doctor growled low in his throat at her tentative touch and the leash on his control snapped. He moved against her, pressing her into the wall behind her, devouring her lips. When she responded, he used his teeth and tongue, letting his hot passion take over. His hands continued to roam over her, clutching at her waist and squeezing the lush mounds of her breasts, fingers plucking and rolling her tight nipples.

Her arms wrapped around him, one hand moving down his chest to wrap around his waist, the other up his neck to run through his close cropped hair, pulling his head down toward her, urging him on. The Doctor rolled his hips, thrusting the heavy length of his cock against her. She gasped, crying out as he lowered his head to nip at her throat just below her ear. “Stop me,” he growled, pressing his face against the hollow of where her neck met her shoulder, drawing in a deep breath of her sweet scent, a mixture of lilac soap and creamy arousal. His cock pulsed with the need to bury himself deep within her soft, wet heat, but he held back, hands grasping at the curve of her waist.

“No,” she murmured, her hand lowering to squeeze his muscled ass. He raised his head and she bit his ear gently, pulling on the lobe, causing him to shiver with need. She hooked a leg around his waist, trying to pull herself up to where her body demanded she be. “Don’t stop,” she begged and any chance the Doctor had of halting was gone.

He kissed her, his lips hard and plundering, tongue sweeping inside to tease and torture. His hands slid from her waist to cup her rounded derriere and lift her up so his cock nestled against the apex of her legs, right where she needed him. She cried out, head falling back against the wall as she felt his length through the thin cotton of their clothes. “I need you,” he murmured, as she began to roll her hips against him, mimicking his movement from before.

“Show me,” she moaned, nails raking lightly up his back, making him arch. “Please, show me,” Her breathless words drove him wild and he pulled them away from the wall, desperately seeking the bedroom. Somehow, he found it and they crashed down together on the bed.

“Clothes. Off. Now,” he commanded, pulling at her shorts. There was a brief struggle and then he switched to ripping his jimjam bottoms off while she kicked out of her shorts. The need to have her naked overtook him and he grabbed the collar of her shirt, ripping it down the middle, exposing her toned stomach and the sweet, glorious pink tipped breasts.

Shocked, Rose lay fully exposed to the Doctor’s lustful, worshiping gaze. Her hands started to cover her breasts and where the hot center of her desire was, but he stopped her with a look. “You are magnificent,” he breathed and Rose blushed.

“You’re pretty impressive yourself,” she murmured, her eyes drawn down his naked body, resting on the bobbing head of his cock, a thick mushroom head on a shaft much bigger than she had imagined. She swallowed, nervous about what was to come. The Doctor smiled at her, his grin wolfish, before he swooped down to press a trail of kisses from her throat to her right breast. Rose cried out as he sucked at her tight nipple, teeth raking it just lightly. Her hand clenched on his buttock and she undulated against him.

“Touch me,” he whispered, blue eyes locking on hers as he looked up. Tentatively, she reached down and wrapped her hand around his thick length. Her thumb rubbed over the silky head and he groaned, dropping his head to her chest, breath hissing out as she rubbed the pearl of moisture she found at the tip around the head of his cock. Encouraged, she began to stroke her hand up and down the length of his shaft, enjoying the feel of pulsing steel beneath velvet skin. “Yessssssss,” he hissed, kissing up her other breast before sucking strongly at her peaked nipple. One of his hands massaged the breast he wasn’t sucking, while the other trailed down her stomach to rub lightly at her lower lips, teasing along the sides of her thighs.

Rose arched against him, her hand squeezing his cock, not sure what she wanted, but knowing she needed more. “I want to feel your pussy quiver around me,” he whispered roughly, causing Rose to shiver. Unable to speak, she just nodded and nearly shrieked as he plunged a finger in her hot, tight depth.

“Oh, god, oh god,” Rose moaned, pumping her hips to meet the thrust of his finger. He withdrew and just as she was about to protest, he plunged two more back in.

“Do you like that?” the Doctor murmured, enjoying the way her eyes widened and glazed with pleasure, her lips parted and her skin flushed with arousal. Nothing had ever been more beautiful to him. Her head tossed from side to side as he drove her closer and closer to the edge, driven closer himself by her passion and the feel of her soft hand still moving up and down his cock in the same rhythm of his thrusting fingers.

Just as she was about to cum, he withdrew his fingers, eliciting a frustrated moan of protest from Rose. Making sure her eyes were on him, he sucked the taste of her desire from his fingers, delighting in her shuddering gasp and trembling lips. “Soon I’ll taste you more thoroughly,” he promised and pulled her hand away from his jerking cock. He was so close. “But first I want to feel you wrapped around me as I sink into your wet pussy. I want you to cum while I pump my cock deep inside you.”

“Yes!” Rose cried, moving her hips urgently beneath him, “Please,”she begged.

He positioned the head of his cock at her slick, swollen lips, rubbing just lightly at her clit, teasing both of them. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice dark with the need to hear her say it.

“Yes!”

“What do you want?” he demanded, pushing forward just ever so slightly.

Rose grabbed his shoulders, meeting his gaze steadily. “Fuck me,” she cried and at her words, he broke, thrusting forward into her tight, wet heat. He crushed her lips beneath his in a bruising kiss, holding both of them still as she adjusted to his girth inside of her, and the slight pain that came from her barrier tearing.

“Good?” he ground out, lifting his head to see her pupils dilated, while he was being driven wild by the spasms of her pussy around him. She nodded, pulling his head down for another kiss while he began to slowly pull out before thrusting back into her, trying to keep a gentle rhythm.

Rose bit his shoulder and he began ramming his cock into her, the need to take her, mark her as his too strong. From her nails biting into his back and her teeth on his shoulder and throat, she felt that desperate need too.

Waves of pleasure kept crashing over Rose, building and building with each thrust until she felt as if the universe exploded within her. She let out a keening wail as she came, which the Doctor swallowed with another kiss. Seconds later, he grabbed her hips, slamming into her let out a muffled roar as his seed spurted into her in hot jets.

They collapsed together in a tangled mass of limbs, exhausted from their nearly uncontrollable passion. For several minutes, they just breathed, letting the pleasure continue to wash over them, his cock still jerking inside of her with each spasm of her body. Finally, he became too sensitive and pulled out, flopping on his back, and pulling Rose onto his chest. Content they lay there, nearly drifting into sleep.

Eventually, sanity returned and Rose shifted against the bare chest of her demon lover. Their cum was slick between her thighs and she decided she liked this new sensation, just as she liked the heavy feeling of her well stated body.

“Are you okay?,” the Doctor asked, opening his eyes to see Rose with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Oh, I am more than okay,” she murmured, sounding very satisfied before she smiled at him, her tongue caught between her teeth.

“Good,” he said, squeezing a cheek of her bum. Then he shifted them both, sitting upright and pulling Rose up with him. He was nearly distracted from his next point by her pert breasts, thrusting out at him, begging him to hold their satiny weight. He ran a hand down one breast and she arched against him, like a cat being stroked. “We need to talk, however,” he said regretfully, pulling his eyes away from her lush body to meet her eyes. He hated the way those expressive eyes instantly shuttered. “I’ve put you in a lot of danger, I’m afraid,” he informed her.

“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself,” she said softly, fiddling with the sheet they were sitting on.

“I saw that,” he acknowledged. “I move around a lot,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she whispered, looking away from him to where her fingers were worrying the sheet. “This was never more than a rest stop for you. I understand.”

The Doctor’s heart hurt as he heard her words and worried that he wouldn’t hear what he wanted next. Gently, very gently, he placed a finger under her chin and raised her head so she was once again meeting his eyes. “You could come with me,” he offered, trying not let it show how much his soul was on the line with her answer.

Her eyes lit up and a smile bloomed on her face. “Yes!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately.

The Doctor laughed in relief and joy, returning her kiss with his own. “We need to make plans,” he admonished her, as her hands began to run down his body.

“Later,” Rose said, pressing her breasts against him. “I want you to show me more,” she murmured between kisses.

Laughing, the Doctor let the two of them fall to the bed once more. “Oh, wait til you see what I have to show you, little angel,” he grinned wickedly. “I promise you will see worlds you never thought existed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many hours later, Rose knelt by the door of Mickey’s gram’s flat, sliding a note under his door explaining that she was going on an adventure and leaving a number to reach her if he needed anything. “I couldn’t let him worry,” she explained to the impatient Doctor.

“All right then,” he said, holding his hand out her, shifting the weight of her packed bag on his other shoulder. He grinned at her in delight as she grabbed hold of his hand, finger intertwining. “Run!” he whispered mischievously and together they took off down the hallway, running toward adventure, running toward a life together


End file.
